Beautiful Disaster
by FuckMePumps
Summary: [He is precious to her] Nobody knew that such an innocent, affectionate gesture such as watching him in his sleep would lead to divulging her deepest, darkest secret. Oneshot, TinkerBellxPeterPan. R&R.


**Author's Note:** Hello there everyone. This is another new category for me, the inspiration sparked by reading quotes from the book by Cornelia Funke's _Inkheart_, and fueled further by hearing Kelly Clarkson's song _Beautiful Disaster_. I believe that the canon pairing Peter /Wendy has already become popular (maybe even too popular), so I'm trying my hand with an equally bittersweet (and maybe even more so) but underrated couple Tink/Peter. Enjoy reading!

**Disclaimer:** I don't claim ownership to Peter Pan by J.M. Barrie, or the song Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson.

&.&

She likes how he looks in candlelight.

She knows that fire is evil; it burns mercilessly, it destroys the surroundings, it reduces to ashes what might have been valued prizes, and that she ought to chastise him; why did he have to take the blasted candles from Hook's ship along with the loot?

_**He drowns in his dreams, an exquisite extreme...**_

But right now, she just wants to relish one of these rare times when the infamous Peter Pan becomes not that, but a mere boy. A boy; who is human, who is breakable, who is _real._ Not the façade of the witty gremlin that endlessly outsmarts Captain Hook and his crew; not that opaque mask of that tough but entertaining commander to The Lost Boys; not that charming persona that makes many a lady (of any race and kind, mind you) fawn over him.

Plainly _Peter, _a boy who can feel tired and drowsy and fall asleep like everyone else.

_**More heaven than a heart could hold…**_

She likes to watch the flames dance on his face.

The glow of the miniature blaze on the candle's crown makes him appear a prince of sorts; all dark and shadowed, brightening brown eyes when he opens them, the light caressing his little button nose, emancipating the elfish ears, the smiling mouth, shining in tendrils on the thick locks of hair that's sullied gold in summer and earth-russet in wintertime.

He looks better, more genuine, in this kind of light than in anything else. In daylight, he seems so carefree and implausibly happy; she appreciates that, but does him no justice but turns him into something one-dimensional. On the other hand, the moonbeams make him pale and transparent, like a ghost that haunts the forgotten alcoves of Never Land, and she does not want that. Even the magnificent kind that radiates from fairies (including her) is not enough; by it, he seems an angel, innocent, cherubic, free of the mischief that sparkles in his eyes.

_**I don't know what he's after, but he's so beautiful, such a beautiful disaster…**_

He seems peaceful when he is asleep; that is easily betrayed by his ever-changing breathing pace, the movement of those eyes behind the listless lids, the occasional frown that graces his brow or mouth, or the words that slip through his lips in hesitant murmurs.

She knows he is dreaming; for even in Never Land there are limits he cannot achieve in consciousness. Certainly, he can fly around like a little insect, unperturbed, and he rules Never Land like a disowned, usurping royalty would reign over their kingdom; boundless, and according to whatever pleases him.

But in nighttime reveries he can wish for the things concealed within his heart of hearts. She can only imagine; ridding Hook of his other bothersome hand (a bit too macabre for her, but she is thinking for him), joining the Indian tribe with all the painted animal-skinned glory of it, and sometimes, she assumes, maybe even the Indian Princess, Tiger Lily her name was, or, that Wendy girl, or any other female that inhabited the island e.g. the mermaids, graceful and fair, other fairies… Her light was suddenly tinted with red. She always had problems with jealousy.

_**And if I could hold on through the tears and the laughter… Would it be beautiful? Or just a beautiful disaster…**_

But deep inside, she knew she had no reason to be. The affection of The Boy Who Never Grows Up may change from time to time, blinded by pretty faces and allure, but he belongs to her. He make think her infuriating sometimes, and has a bad habit of playing with her emotions, but no one can deny Peter Pan has a special kind of attachment for her, surpassing friendly care, but he cherishes her with so much sentiment it can only be called love. Nobody can take him from her delicate fingers; else, she would not let them.

He'd forgotten her once, before, but she justifies it is because no one really expects fairies to live very long, but because of their small bodies, one can say such a short while seems a good while to them. But the instant he'd found her trapped in that little spider's web, forsaken by her sisters like a porcelain doll no child wants to play with, when he untangled the flimsy translucent threads from her, she'd captured his heart in her hands and she is never letting go.

_**His magical myth as strong as what I believe… A tragedy with, more damage than a soul should see…**_

She had been a child then; for the magic of Never Land doesn't have the same effect on fairies that it does in humans. Fairies, as a matter of fact, do grow up, but that is alright for their life cycle is free of the awkward ridicule adulthood does to humans. Needless to say, she had been with him a long time, even before he'd snatched each and every Lost Boy from their cradles in the filthy orphanages of London when they were barely able to walk.

Those other would like to think he loves them, and they love him in return, but many often confuse infatuation with love. They are attracted to him, yes, but would they give up their life, or all they have, their _everything_, for him, to save _only_ him? She scoffed proudly. The Indian Princess would let him get eaten by crocodiles before she'd ever let her village burn down by pirates. And the mermaids are even more vain than fairies; they would rather give him up to the witch in one of Wendy's tales than sacrifice a strand of their hair. Females of her kind? They don't know him like she does. And that Wendy Darling would make _him _give up his life for her and her precious brothers (pardon, she has been very fond of the Darlings after they stopped being so annoying, but the green-eyed monster has taken possession of her at the moment). But she, oh no, she would rather die a hundred deaths before she'd let any harm come to him. That, _that _is love, not a silly crush, but true undying devotion. Love, in the very essence of the word.

_**I'm longing for love and the logical but he's only happy hysterical… I'm waiting for some kind of miracle… So long…**_

She _loves_ him.

She was gently shaken out of her trance by a quiet whisper that escaped from his lips.

"Tinker Bell…"

_Tinker Bell._

She smiled a small smile, batting her lashes a bit. She liked the way he said her name; like a twinkling star, enunciating every syllable until he could taste their meaning on his tongue.

Tinker Bell; fairy. Tinker Bell; friend. Tinker Bell; _loved one_.

So he is dreaming of her now, is he? Milk and honey could never be sweeter than this moment.

_**He's soft to the touch, but I'm afraid at the end he breaks… He's never enough, and still leaves more than I can take…**_

With a slight flutter of her fragile, iridescent wings, she crept up to his pillow and touched her tiny mouth to the corner of his, where Wendy once said an eternity's worth of kisses were kept.

She knew that some of those kisses weren't hers and would never be hers, for he had many other girls to like and entertain, but one thing was for sure: she had already claimed the first of infinite ones that was yet to come.

She inched closer to the curve of his ear, and with a soft kind of sound, like the tolling of a thousand little silver bells, said what was needed to be said in hushed half-conversations such as this.

Peter Pan knew several fairy languages; he's bound to figure it out. And who knows? Maybe when the time is right, he would return it as well, in a way words never could.

Leaving a tear's trail of glowing, golden pixie dust behind her, she flew to her own pearly bed, nestled within a hollow oak, and entered the same world of evening fantasies her beloved rested in.

_**He's beautiful… Such a beautiful disaster.**_

&.&

**Author's Note:** So, what do you think? I rather liked it, and can even go so much as to say that I'm pretty darn proud of it. Tink's my second favorite character (next to Peter, of course) and I want to know if I did her or the couple any justice… at all, so please do

**_REVIEW!  
_**


End file.
